


O Fearful Meditation

by Violsva



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, Thinking About Death, Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 13:38:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4265217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violsva/pseuds/Violsva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"From a drop of water," said the writer, "a logician could infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara without having seen or heard of one or the other. So all life is a great chain, the nature of which is known whenever we are shown a single link of it." </p><p>Not always for the better, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	O Fearful Meditation

**Author's Note:**

> For Watson's Woes July Writing [Prompt #3](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/1282916.html).
> 
> Watson references Shakespeare's [Sonnet LXV](http://www.shakespeare-online.com/sonnets/65.html), which you may want to read first.

The case had ended successfully, so there was no reason for Holmes’ morose silence on the train ride back. None but the illness of our client’s mother, at least, and I was surprised that that would be affecting him so deeply.

“Are you concerned over Mrs. Farran?” I asked at last. I didn’t have a newspaper with me, and we had at least an hour yet before we reached London.

His gaze flicked upwards. “You’re doing better,” he said. “Proximity seems to be effecting some change.”

“Don’t be conceited,” I said – I might as well tell him not to be tall.

He looked down again. “I thought it would all go well for Miss Farran,” he said. “Her inheritance recovered, her boorish neighbour scared off, her home and her personal safety both secured for the future. And then I realized how wrong I had been – that there is something neither of us can fight, and that will blight the years to come no matter what we have done for her. Her mother will die, and she will mourn her, and there is a chance her own lungs are unsound as well. It seemed suddenly clear that all I do will end so. You may say it is illogical, Watson, but it is also straightforward fact.”

I remembered him holding a rose, and discoursing on Providence; this, then, was the other side of such thoughts. From a drop of water, a logician could infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara; from a rose he could determine the existence of a higher power; from a simple cough he was overwhelmed by the presence of death.

“Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,” I murmured. He exhaled and nodded.

“I am not sure that your writings are consoling here,” he said. It was almost a joke. Speaking of it had helped, then. I placed one hand over his on his knee.

“I won’t stop them, whether they are or not.”

“Well,” he said. “Fame, even such fame, must be some comfort.” His hand turned to hold mine.

The rest of the train ride was still mostly silent, but companionable in that silence. Outside the greens of early spring rushed past.


End file.
